


Companions (+ Fallout 4 Characters) React to the Sole Survivor Telling Them They're FtM

by tea_petty



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Campfires, Coming Out, M/M, Trans Character, Trust
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 03:09:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20613977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tea_petty/pseuds/tea_petty
Summary: Originally posted to my tumblr; tea-petty





	Companions (+ Fallout 4 Characters) React to the Sole Survivor Telling Them They're FtM

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my tumblr; tea-petty

The fire smoked and popped at the center of the cleared lot, casting whorls of shadows in their intriguing dances around the immediate vicinity. The make-shift fence exulted tall, mottled silhouettes that cast ambiguous shapes one might find familiarities in; the same way children did with clouds on those peaceful, windy days.

It must’ve been at least a bit after 22:00, seeing as Danse and Haylen had long since retreated to their sleeping quarters for the night, the latter trailing after their commanding officer as if she hope he might invite her in for a night cap on the way in.

They disappeared behind the doors before Sole could see if he had or not.

Opposite the campfire was empty now, giving him and Rhys a near panoramic view of the cosmos as they drifted and winked back in the night sky. Between knitted fingers, Sole nursed a bottle of lukewarm beer. From his peripheral vision, he could spot Rhys taking a swig of his own. 

Sole turned to look fully at the Knight when a few moments passed and his chin was still tilted up, bottle still at his lips, throat bobbing as he polished off a generous half of his drink.

“Whoa, slow down there,” Sole said, eyebrows raised, “just because today worked in our favor, doesn’t mean that Paladin Danse won’t still send you on a supply run at first light if he suspects you need to sober up still.”

Rhys snorted, but put his drink down.

“Yeah, he’s good to his men, but a hangover’s worst nightmare.”

“A person _with_ a hangover’s worst nightmare,” Sole corrected, cracking a grin.

Rhys chuckled, tossing an elbow at Sole’s ribs lightly. His shoulder made contact with Sole’s before his elbow reached him though, and neither man said anything when Rhys lingered in his lean, both of them reveling in the light heat that seeped through the material of their flight suits.

Sole cleared his throat, a wily grin now fully spread at his lips when Rhys returned to his original posture, eyes studying his boots despite the flush that rode high on his cheekbones.

“Don’t think I’ll cover for you either,” Sole jabbed, “if he asks about where all the beer went, I’m definitely throwing you under the bus.”

Rhys snorted lightly.

“I’d expect nothing less of you; not with how I trained you at least.”

“_Sponsored_. There’s a difference, you know.”

“Whatever,” Rhys waved a hand dismissively, and reached for his beer again, “I’ll let the Scribes worry about the technicalities. Point is, you’ve made the Brotherhood proud; you know? So of course, I want to take some of the credit for that.”

Sole turned back to the fire, his face glowing in an ebbing and waning light as the flames flickered contently.

“I’m glad. I really like it here,” contentment radiated warmly through Sole, despite the bittersweet ache that had started to radiate above his ribs. It was a full, healing pain. The one that came with pressing a finger gingerly to scar tissue, and marveling at the lack of an open wound. “I wasn’t sure I’d be able to have a family again after waking up in the Vault.”

Rhys nodded, not needing his voice to scatter the intimacy of the sentiment.

The Brotherhood – despite what some of the…_unrulier_ civilians thought of it, truly was a family. Not bound in blood, rather, something much stronger. Something like steel, perhaps. 

When the intensity of the pensiveness that followed had started to ebb away, Rhys felt his voice wouldn’t disturb such golden, night-damp confessions.

“I remember feeling like that when I first joined,” he said. 

His voice scraped a little as it left, and so he cleared his throat. He felt Sole’s eyes on him.

“I didn’t get dropped out of a Vault on my ass or anything but,” his eyes went far away, as memories often whisked one away. This caught Sole a little off guard; he’d always known his sponsor to be abundantly in the now – now was all that mattered, especially when one was on a battlefield. The whole world seemed to be one, for Rhys. 

“My old man was a real hard ass, on me and my mom. She chose not to stick around, and me, well,” he let out what sounded like it was supposed to be a short, easy laugh, but came out a tired huff. “being the kid I was at the time, I didn’t really have a choice.”

Sole tried hard to imagine a scrawny kid, wearing obvious hand-me-downs, and with his knobby knees painted with raw scrapes and tender bruises.

He struggled to reconcile this image with the man sitting fireside now.

“Anyways – whatever, a shitty childhood is nothin’ new. But, the second I was old enough, I upped and left, with just the shirt on my back, and whatever caps I could manage, and enlisted.”

“And then you found a new home,” Sole said softly.

“A new home,” Rhys echoed, in agreement, giving another firm nod before taking a cleansing swig of his beer.

“And a new family.”

“A new family too. Though,” Rhys blinked orange light from his eyes as he rubbed the back of his neck, “it took me a while to adjust. I was a bit of a pain in the ass when I first joined. Just some kid with a smart mouth, who was angry at the world, and was only in it for himself,” his cheeks flushed a bit. His shame ran with it, far beneath the collar of his flight suit, where Sole couldn’t follow.

“So, what you thought of me when I first joined?” Sole teased.

“Yeah,” Rhys laughed, “but much worse. I think there’s still record of it too – ‘disorderly conduct’ or whatever. Luckily, they whipped my ass into shape, and I’m…really grateful they stuck with me to do it.”

Sole smiled, and the warmth in it was encouraged by that of the campfire. The Police Station almost felt homely in this light.

“Well, no one gets under your skin like family does.”

Rhys let out a short laugh. “I’ll drink to that.”

They both did.

Maybe it was the stars that winked down at them, or the orange glow of the fire, or the warmth of their current state, running tangentially to inebriated, though not quite there yet. Perhaps it was how they mingled together, right here, right now, beneath this sky, with his sponsor beside him. Maybe it was the token of trust Rhys had given him just a few moments prior, and the want to exchange a token of his own.

Maybe it was the way they had lingered with each other for the past few months, in touch, talk, and everything in between.

Whatever it was, Sole felt safe. And full, like the pleasantness of this moment might burst him at the seams, and so with a small, gentle smile that felt accommodating to his truth, he turned to Rhys.

The moment his eyes landed on his sponsor, Rhys felt them and his gaze softened considerably before meeting Sole’s.

“What is it?”

“I’m trans.”

Rhys looked at him puzzledly, and then realization flashed in the depths of his eyes.

It wasn’t a term used so much in the Commonwealth, though Rhys could recall a few Brothers and Sisters who used the term, or perhaps described something similar sounding. When Sole spoke about it, he could tell it was something said in confidence of him, something entrusted, like when Rhys had opened up to him before.

In the Commonwealth, no one much questioned that sort of thing. If a person was good for their caps or their word, they were good period. It struck Rhys then, that perhaps things hadn’t necessarily been that way before the bombs dropped.

Sole read the flash of confusion as an unfamiliarity to it. His skin began to itch. 

“It means…well, it’s –“

Clumsy as he was with social graces, Rhys wasn’t the moron some pegged him to be. 

“I understand,” Rhys reassured, his features softening in the warmth that emanated from the campfire and swirled between he and Sole.

Sole let out a gentle sort of half-laugh. Resigned, but peacefully so.

“I see.” He paused again. “Trust isn’t so easy to come by out here. I never thought I’d find it again either, but I suppose that comes with familial territory.”

“I think so too.”

The fire flickered, and the silence that emphasized its crackle and pop wasn’t unpleasant nor heavy. For a few minutes it seemed like it just wasn’t ready to be broken yet.

Then, Rhys turned to Sole, and he felt the intensity of his sponsor’s gaze before he returned it.

“Thank you, for trusting me enough to confide in me,” his lips curved into a small smile, and shifting shadows of hastily thrown firelight eased Rhy’s harsh bone structure. Maybe it was all the orange he was awash in, but he seemed warm.

No, Sole thought decidedly, that wasn’t it. The Rhys he knew, _was _warm, _was_ tender, just never in the open like this, wear the moon and stars could spectate.

“Thanks for being someone I can trust,” Sole returned.

Rhys shifted in his seat, scooting towards Sole, and in that movement, Sole could see all the things they weren’t saying aloud; Rhys’ eyes purposely evaded Sole’s own, his cheeks a bit pinker than his few beers would’ve rendered. When he sat down again, he was close enough now that the length of his upper arm, and his hip brushed gently again Sole’s own, where their body heat mingled through the material of their flight suits. He let out a little sigh of exertion as he relaxed into his new seat.

At this proximity, they could share warmth, their hands knocked together occasionally, and if Rhys turned his head, he’d have crossed a threshold they’ve both been inching towards for months. The fire flickered in a rapid-fire rhythm that Rhys had been drinking a little too much for to count with precision. 

It was somewhere in between six and seven though that when the back of his hand connected with the back of Sole’s hand, they lingered and stayed. Rhys sighed luxuriously as he felt Sole’s fingers thread through his own, and then they were palm to palm. 

Every movement from thereafter came naturally once they’d established the first anchoring touch. Sole drew closer, and Rhys felt the gravity of the man beside him as he leaned onto him, head resting at his shoulder. Rhys gently eased his hand from Sole’s so that he could wrap it around him, and Sole leaned more deeply, a contented sigh leaving his lips.

Trust, Rhys thought decidedly, was quite miraculous, although not as much so as the person he shared it with.


End file.
